Collective Mutants : Happily Ever After
by Rossi
Summary: Everything is changed when the housemates gather one last time for Fatimah's wedding.


Disclaimer: The mutant concept belongs to Marvel, the TCP concept jointly to Phil Foster and Kielle. No profit, only homage.  
  
Rating: PG-13 for swearing, adult themes and high soap content.  
  
Feedback: As always, welcome and adored. Rossifics@yahoo.com.au  
  
This should be it, folks. I know I said it two stories ago, but this will be the last. Unless I'm savaged by plotbunnies again. *frowns at Phil*  
  
Collective Mutants: Happily Ever After.  
  
By Rossi.  
  
***  
  
"You are invited to help Fatimah Saliba and Adrian Stewart celebrate their wedding. Sydney Botanic Gardens, 2pm, 23rd April, 2000."  
  
Allison knew the gilt-edged words by heart. True, there weren't that many - underneath her pink-and-fuzzy-seeming exterior, Fatimah was deeply practical and hadn't wanted to pay for extra adjectives - but something in the drama of the thought appealed. The invitation had been stuck up on her bedroom mirror for almost a month now, and she read it at least twice a day whilst brushing her hair morning and night, so the words were as embossed on her mind as they were on the card.  
  
Too bad it hadn't helped her decide whether to go or not.  
  
To the observer, like her mother, for example, it seemed pretty obvious. Fatimah was her friend, it was only right that Allison be at her wedding. And a trip to Sydney wasn't to be sneezed at either. Add in the fact her other friends from the city would undoubtedly be there. why, there was no decision at all, really. Which was why Allison's mother couldn't understand why her daughter got evasive every time the matter was raised, although she thought it might have something to do with Allison's oft-voiced opposition to the marriage: being the same age, Allison thought Fatimah was too young for such a permanent step. However, Kate Ferguson was unaware of certain Issues between her daughter and one of those friends from the city, which threw a completely different light on things.  
  
'Probably just as well,' Allison reflected, running her brush through the blond tangles; the invitation was looking at her in a more accusing way than it had done even yesterday. Time was running out, and she knew it. Just as well her mother didn't know what had happened between herself and Raphe. _Fish_. Must think of him as Fish, old buddy, old pal. Good old _safe_ Fish, not Raphe, not the name she'd gasped out as he'd trailed kisses down her neck and along her collarbone. No, it was really _not_ a good idea to think of anything involving that night - not the B&S ball, not the drinking and the walk afterward, and _certainly_ not anything that happened in the back of the ute. Or the morning after. _Definitely_ not the morning after.  
  
Allison winced. Trying to not think about something invariably summoned it, like trying not to think about the elephant, and Fatimah's wedding invitation served to jog her memory every time she looked at it. Because Fish would be there, and the last time she'd seen him, he'd looked at her as if she had just pulled his heart out of his chest and stomped it into the dust. Which was, in a way, pretty much what she _had_ done. And she wasn't so sure she could stand to see that look again. Or worse: what if he hated her now? What if she looked into those blue-green eyes and saw nothing but contempt? They hadn't spoken, hadn't communicated at all for almost three months, and she had no idea what was going on with him, apart from oblique references made by Karen and James in unanswered emails. He was her best friend and she'd treated him like shit. If he hated her now, she deserved it.  
  
Only, she didn't think she could handle it if he did.  
  
So she'd been fobbing off her mother with some gumph about not approving of Fatimah getting married so young - which was kind of true, she didn't, but not enough to not be there. She wanted to be there, if only so she could get in one last nudge about perhaps waiting a few years. She'd been dithering for weeks now, trying to decide what she was actually going to do. The others would be unhappy if she didn't show, despite the strange distance that had cropped up between them lately. They weren't fools, and Allison was fairly sure they'd have noticed something was up between her and Fish, if only because he'd come back so early, and still in his tux from the Ball. So they probably knew what a bitch she'd been. Another reason to hide.  
  
"You're a coward," she told her reflection. "You should just go and get it over with."  
  
"Too bloody right. Both parts."  
  
Allison yelped and dropped her hairbrush with a clatter. "Hey! This is private space, remember?"  
  
"Not if you leave your door open, it isn't, idiot. You're lucky it wasn't Mum walking past. And yeah, you _are_ a bloody coward." David crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her as he stood in her doorway. Or loomed - he'd apparently added another six inches to his height overnight, it seemed to Allison. For a moment she wanted to argue back, but then her shoulders slumped as she acknowledged defeat.  
  
"You're right, I should go. Fatimah will be gutted if I don't. It's just. complicated."  
  
"Only because you're making it complicated."  
  
"Yeah, right, you saw Fish after I." Allison trailed off, unable to complete the memory.  
  
"After you broke him? Yeah, I did. But it's still simple; you see him, you apologise for being a psychobitch, and then buy him as much beer as it takes for him to forgive you." David shrugged. "See? Simple."  
  
"I didn't think there was enough beer in the world for him to forgive me." Allison meant it to be flippant, but her voice trembled on the last two words. David glared.  
  
"Don't be stupid. You're mates, or have you forgotten that? Mates forgive mates, provided there's enough grovelling. And you owe it to him."  
  
"But."  
  
"No buts. Just fucking do it already and stop being such a drama queen. You're worse than an episode of Neighbours." David turned to go. "Come on, we've got to muster that top paddock today and it's not getting any earlier."  
  
"Slavedriver." Allison quickly gathered her hair up in a ponytail and wrapped a hair tie around it before following her younger brother down the hall. "And I'll decide what to do in my own time, okay? Stop hassling."  
  
"Fine, fine, you're in control, blah, blah. Just do it before these mates of yours get sick of you and tell you to forget it."  
  
"As if they would." She brushed past him and into the kitchen. "Just drop it, you're getting on my nerves."  
  
"Now then, you two, enough of that. It's too early for bickering," their mother admonished as she set two mugs of tea on the kitchen table. From behind the ever-present newspaper their father grunted in agreement.  
  
"You know I want that top paddock cleared?" he said by way of greeting.  
  
"Yeah, Dad," David replied around a mouthful of toast. "On our way out after brekkie."  
  
"What's this, Mum?" Allison asked, picking up an envelope propped against the Vegemite jar. It was addressed to herself in writing she knew.  
  
"Your dad picked up the mail and it was there. It's from Karen, isn't it?" Kate sat down and looked inquisitively at her daughter. "Aren't you going to open it?"  
  
"Um, sure." Actually Allison didn't _want_ to open it; something about what David had said about her friends getting sick of her dithering had struck home. Maybe this was it. She sighed to herself and ran her finger along the inside of the flap, ripping it open. From inside she pulled a folded-over piece of paper, and two sets of tickets. One for a train to Melbourne, the other a plane to Sydney. Both return and in her name.  
  
"Fucking hell." she murmured out loud, earning herself a glare and a swat across the head from her mother. "Sorry." Rubbing her head absently, she turned her attention to the letter:  
  
"Hey Allie!  
  
'Got tired of waiting around for you to actually let us know what was up with you, so we made an executive decision. You're there. And if you aren't, you'd better have a damn good excuse, because the tickets weren't cheap. This is important, mate, and you have to be there. We _need_ you there.  
  
'Love and death threats,  
  
'Karen and James."  
  
"So, what does she say?" Allison's mother asked, eyes bright with curiosity. Folding the letter back into the envelope, Allison hid the frown that was trying to creep across her face.  
  
"Um, just that they decided to have a kind of 'all go together' thing, so they got me a seat on the same flight." That seemed to satisfy Kate, but Allison was far from happy with the situation. It was an undeniable fait accompli - perfectly executed, neat, simple, forcing her hand. And utterly unlike Karen the Diplomat, always so concerned with making sure people had a choice. And she'd already noted the absence of Fish's name.  
  
Something wasn't right.  
  
"So, guess you've got a decision made then," David remarked, a smirk playing around his lips. She ignored him.  
  
Something definitely wasn't right.  
  
***  
  
"Everything's fine," James said.  
  
"Sure, and you always look like you're about to pass out when you fly," Allison retorted. "Jim, you grab the seat arms any harder and you'll snap them off."  
  
"All right, I have a little problem with flying."  
  
"And that is?"  
  
"I hate it with a burning passion. Just knock me out before this thing starts moving?"  
  
"Not a chance. My power's pyrokinetics, not mind control mumbo jumbo, and I'd have to hit you and I don't want to chip my nail polish - I got this done specially for the wedding, see?" She waved a pink-tipped hand in front of the cyberpath's panicked eyes. "The things I do for you guys."  
  
"Yeah, like you were actually going to make a decision about this thing before the end of the century," scoffed James. She glared at him and he eased away as far as he could in an economy-class seat. "Well, it's true! If we hadn't sent you those tickets."  
  
"All right, I get it. Call me an idiot and be done with it, okay?" Allison looked away, through the small window and across the tarmac of the airport runway.  
  
"Just what was your deal anyway? I know you don't like the idea of Fatimah getting married, but if anyone had an excuse to boycott the wedding, it was me." James blushed slightly pink, adding needed colour to his overly-pale face. "You know, unrequited love and all."  
  
"So things aren't working with Cynthia? I thought you two were going well?" Allison asked, hiding her flinch at the words 'unrequited love'. They struck too close to home, reminding her of Fish's anguished face that morning several months ago.  
  
"No, we're good. It's not exactly Hollywood-style romance, but we have fun. She would have come, only she has this major project due, and wouldn't let me help her with it. That and her folks forgot to send her enough money to cover rent _and_ food this month. I was just trying to distract myself from our imminent fiery deaths with a bit of lame humour." The plane shuddered and James gripped the seat arms even tighter. "Maybe if I just talk to the plane.?"  
  
"Don't you dare. Look, it's fine, thousands of people do this trip every day and nothing happens. Qantas is the safety airline - remember 'Rain Man'?"  
  
"You don't study statistics, do you? Probability is against us, you know. There's always a chance for a random anomaly, and every time there isn't one increases the chances. And that movie sucked."  
  
"Agreed. About the movie, any way." Allison cast her mind around for another topic of conversation in a desperate effort to distract her companion from the plane's take-off. The last thing they needed was a panicked cyberpath hooking into the plane's computer system and flooding it with the binary version of 'ohgod ohgod we're all gonna die'. "So, how's things going in the house without me? New girl settling in?"  
  
"Eleanor? Yeah, she's fitting in well. She does have a tendency to shed, but we got around that with her offering to do the vacuuming and it's working out fine. Of course, the past couple of weeks it's just been the two of us, so I've gotten to know her a bit better than Karen and Fish. She's a nice kid."  
  
"'Past couple of weeks'? They've been in Sydney that long?"  
  
"About that." James' eyes skittered away from hers, evasive. "Fatimah needed a lot of help, getting things ready, and the two of them, well, helping's what they do, isn't it? They make quite a team."  
  
"Yeah, I suppose they do," Allison said slowly, pondering this. Fish and Karen, a team? To her surprise, she felt a sharp pain somewhere in her chest at the thought. She was about to ask more, but just them the plane's engines roared into life, the seatbelt sign flashed repeatedly and she had to concentrate on making sure James didn't accidentally highjack the plane.  
  
***  
  
They arrived to find themselves already late. This was due in part to the usual delay above Sydney as planes circled in a high-altitude queue, but also to the time it had taken to get James through the metal detector in Melbourne at check-in. The security people had been on the verge of a full skin search when Allison had suggested acidly that perhaps they ought to run _James_ through the metal detector. Reluctantly the security people had conceded that they were possibly being a little unreasonable and let them through, but only after some murmured instructions to the stewardess who had been summoned to the scene to escort them both to the plane.  
  
The whole hassle had made the plane an hour late, which hadn't made them very popular with the rest of the passengers. There'd been any number of black looks, and a few muttered comments about 'damn muties', and the crew were keeping a very close eye on them. James' fear of flying hadn't helped, and when they reached Sydney airport there had been the extra annoyance of finding a taxi - the stress of the flight and the drinks Allison had eventually been forced to pour into the flight-phobic engineering student had resulted in James losing sufficient control of his mutation to freak even the hardened taxi drivers of Sydney. Of course, the frustration- induced heat haze shimmering around Allison's head probably hadn't helped. Eventually they were picked up by a Pakistani driver with more university degrees than the whole Hope Street household put together. When they finally landed at the hostel, a slightly wild-eyed Karen whisked them through check in and then back out into another taxi, barely pausing to dump luggage.  
  
Allison couldn't help thinking it was all very convenient. Although Karen couldn't possibly have engineered it that way, the delay made it very easy for her to avoid being pinned down for any meaningful discussion, which was what Allison wanted to do more than anything. As it was, her best friend instead prattled about plans for the next day's wedding, life in the house sans Allison, the effect of the new conservative government on human-mutant politics, the weather for the past week. everything, in fact, except for the two remaining absent housemates, and one in particular.  
  
"How's Fish?" Allison asked at last, driven to bluntness. Karen looked startled, as if expecting a different question entirely, and then shrugged.  
  
"Good. He's good." There was a strange note in her voice, and Allison squirmed slightly in her seat between her two friends. "He's meeting us down at the restaurant, with Adrian and Fatimah," Karen added. "We figured it would be a good idea, before the insanity of tomorrow, if we had dinner together, just us."  
  
James nodded. "Yeah, it'll give us a chance to talk."  
  
"About what?" Allison asked, instantly suspicious. This didn't sound good at all. It sounded like one of their House conferences, where contentions were aired and disagreements (like who hadn't paid their share of the phone bill) addressed.  
  
"N-nothing particular. Just. stuff," faltered James. "Catching up. you know. You've been gone a while. We missed you."  
  
'Nice recovery,' Allison thought scathingly, and then admonished herself for the thought. She was being unreasonable, getting paranoid, seeing plots and ulterior motives in everything said to her. But, she had to admit, things weren't the same. There was an odd atmosphere in the taxi, something about the way her two former housemates were acting, the meaningful looks they were exchanging.  
  
"Eight-ninety," the taxi driver announced, pulling to a stop outside a row of restaurants and shops. 'Green Curry Thai Restaurant' was scrawled in neon across the front window of the one directly in opposite.  
  
"Fatimah remembered," Allison said, grinning, and Karen smiled, perhaps for the first time since the hostel.  
  
"House tradition," she replied, referring to their group habit of frequenting a particular Thai place in Brunswick for all their special occasions. The last time Allison had been there was the night before she returned to the farm.  
  
"Is it as good as ours?" James asked, sceptically.  
  
"Not quite, but pretty damn close. Guess you'll have to rough it, Blue," Karen replied, chuckling. "Fish and I have tried it out a few times." She smiled again, this time a 'personal joke' kind of secret smile, and Allison felt another of those unreasonable twinges of jealousy.  
  
"I'll just have to suffer through then," James sighed tragically.  
  
"Spoken like a true martyr," Karen riposted. She was about to continue the joking when Allison cut in.  
  
"Well, I don't know about you two, but _I'm_ hungry. Let's go." She grabbed the door handle and yanked it open with a touch more force then strictly necessary and strode inside. Behind her, Karen and James exchanged another look.  
  
Inside, the restaurant was dim, the smell of food making Allison's mouth suddenly water; she'd just said what she had to avoid any more mentions of Fish and Karen, but apparently there had been an element of truth in it.  
  
"Welcome, can I help you?" asked the middle-aged man at the cash register at the front. Judging from his air of nervous eagerness, Allison guessed he was the owner rather than a hired hand.  
  
"Um, yeah, we're here with a group." Allison halted, realising she didn't know who to ask for.  
  
"The booking's under the name of 'Stewart'," Karen supplied, appearing at Allison's elbow.  
  
"Ah, of course, this way! Your friends, they wait for you!" The little Thai man bustled towards the rear of the restaurant, the three of them following. He missed Karen's questioning look at Allison, and the blonde's impatient returning shrug; James trailed along behind them, frowning slightly. Then they rounded a jutting corner and he had to stop suddenly to avoid smacking into the frozen form of Allison.  
  
"Here we go." he muttered under his breath.  
  
"Allison! James! You're here at last!" Fatimah beamed up at them from her seat.  
  
"Here, just let me." Adrian began to get out of his seat to let Fatimah get past him, but she had already fluttered up over the table and into James' hug. The sales rep's handsome face darkened, but any remonstration was halted by the third member of the table laying a hand on his arm and shaking his head.  
  
"It's so good to see you!" Fatimah whispered breathlessly in James' ear. "I was starting to think you wouldn't make it."  
  
"And miss a good Thai meal? Never." James could feel the trembling of the slender body in his arms. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Well enough, in the circumstances," she replied, kissing him on the cheek before releasing her hold and turning to Allison. "Allison, you're here!"  
  
"Told you I wouldn't miss it," Allison replied, but her attention was mostly elsewhere. Hugging the butterfly-girl briefly, she turned to the true object of her scrutiny. "Hey, R. Fish."  
  
"Hey. Good to see you." Allison winced - she couldn't help it. His voice was flat, almost expressionless. He glanced over at James. "Hey, Jim."  
  
James nodded back. "Hey, Fish. You look like shit."  
  
The medical student shrugged. "Fair enough," he replied philosophically. An awkward silence fell over the group, to be broken by Fatimah:  
  
"So, shall we sit down and order?"  
  
***  
  
The evening, having started awkwardly, steadily went downhill. Fatimah was quiet - more so then usual - almost withdrawn, quite unlike the blushing brides of tv and fiction. Allison was too distracted to think much further on it; she was torn between breaking the silence between her and Fish, or letting him make the first move. Because, dammit, she was tired of being the bad guy here. He wasn't cooperating - he ate with an air of worried distraction, like he wasn't really there, his mind miles away. She took the third way out, the coward's way, drinking her way steadily through the bottle of white wine placed in front of her.  
  
This left Karen, James and surprisingly, Adrian, to carry the conversation. Fatimah's betrothed had never been truly part of the group; it was a phenomenon common to those who found themselves coming up against the bonds formed by several years of sharing a bathroom. And tonight he was as obviously distracted as Fish, worrying about the next day, perhaps, but still he managed to joke with James and talk politics with Karen (carefully, since the two of them had. differing political views), and elicit the occasional smile from the wan Fairy, and even the odd comment from Fish. He was less successful with Allison, the farm girl moving quickly from 'tipsy' to 'surly' without her usual pitstops of 'happy' and 'cuddly' or even the less-pleasant but still amusing 'drunk'. She rebuffed Adrian's conversation starting questions with mono-syllabic replies which skated the edge of rudeness, ignored Karen's hints (and the gentle and then not-so-gentle kicks under the table she resorted to when her meaningful looks failed), and when James tried to lighten the mood with a few lame jokes, merely shrugged and reached for the wine bottle again.  
  
At last Karen had had enough.  
  
"Allison, are you _trying_ to be a bitch, or is it just natural talent?"  
  
The only problem was that Allison had had enough too. She thumped down her glass, knocking it over and spilling the contents over the tablecloth. "I would have thought you already knew the answer to that one, roomie. Considering the way you've been treating me ever since I got here." Her slightly slurred words dripped venom.  
  
James coughed nervously, tried to intervene: "Now c'mon, Allie, there's no need for this."  
  
"Oh, there's _every_ need, Blue. Time to get this all out in the open. No more secrets, okay? Besides, isn't that why we're here? To talk?" James' face flushed red at the dig. "Only I don't see a whole lot of talking going on. Just a lot of looks and nudges and the feeling that I'm everyone's Bad Guy."  
  
"Allison, what." Karen managed, before Allison cut her off again.  
  
"Oh don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You've been giving me the cold shoulder for _months_. And whenever I ask what's wrong, you say it's all hunky-dorey, nothing to worry about."  
  
"We've been giving _you_ the cold shoulder? Allie, you haven't returned calls, you don't answer e-mails. Fuck, it took us sending you the bloody tickets to even get you here! I don't know what your damage is, but don't try and shift it onto us!" Karen's voice rose, drawing the attention of the restaurant's few other patrons, before she realised and got it under control again. "Especially when it's your own damned stubbornness causing the problem."  
  
"Oh it is, is it.?" Under Allison's hands, the tablecloth was starting to brown slightly - she realised she was losing control of her power, and snatched her hands away. Fatimah took advantage of the distraction to try and reason with her in that new breathless voice of hers.  
  
"Allison, I know you don't approve of my getting married so soon."  
  
"Damn right I don't." Karen's reaction had triggered Allison's sense of guilt, and doubt: perhaps this wasn't what she had thought it was. But the alcohol in her system was engaging her mouth rather than her brain, and she took refuge in attack rather than apology. Fatimah flinched, and the expression on her face only fuelled Allison's self-disgust and doubled the reaction. "I think you're being a sentimental idiot. You're the same age as me, for Christ's sake, why don't you fucking wait for a few more years, do something with your life."  
  
"Because she can't."  
  
The words were quietly spoken, but they silenced Allison immediately.  
  
"Fatimah _can't_ wait few more years. She doesn't have that long. So she's doing what she wants to do, now, while she's still able." Fish looked up from his plate, his expression unreadable. All Allison knew was that the look in his eyes was pretty damn close to the one she had feared she would see: contempt.  
  
"But." she managed. "I thought."  
  
"You thought what? That this was about what happened in February?" Now it was Fish's turn to raise his voice. "Not everything is about you, Allie."  
  
Allison gulped, and looked over at Fatimah, seeing for the first time the paleness of her face, the dullness of the colour of her wings. And weren't those wings themselves looking the tiniest bit ragged?  
  
"I. Oh God, Fatimah, I'm so sorry," she managed, standing clumsily. She swayed slightly on the spot, and then abruptly clapped her hand over her mouth and rushed for the bathroom.  
  
Another silence fell over the table, broken at last by James:  
  
"So, I'm guessing no-one wants dessert?"  
  
***  
  
The white porcelain of the toilet edge was cool under her cheek. Allison sat back, then hiccoughed and hung her head over the bowl again, mouth open wide. Her stomach contracted sharply, and her eyes burned as another gout of vomit erupted from her mouth. After what seemed like an eternity, it passed, and she sank back down, tears running unheeded down her face. Her head swam, the cubicle spinning around her, and she fought to stabilise it before she ended head-down in the toilet again. She grabbed weakly at the toilet paper, sending the roll spinning and ending up with a small pile of it. It was impossible to wind it back onto the holder, so she simply wiped her mouth with the bundle and then let it, and her hand, fall limply onto the cool tiled floor.  
  
She wished vaguely she were dead. At least she wouldn't get the hangover tomorrow that would no doubt be a doozy.  
  
There was the sound of the bathroom door opening, a gentle tap on her cubicle's door, and she braced herself for either the recriminations or the comforting that was bound to follow.  
  
"I really fucked up, didn't I, Kaz?" she said weakly.  
  
"I'd say you did, yeah." But the voice wasn't Karen's.  
  
"Raphe?" She slid over slightly. The movement made her dress ride up higher than was decent, but she wasn't really noticing these minute details, and opened the door a crack. "You're not s'posed to be in here."  
  
"Yeah, I know. So you'd better let me hide in there so I don't get busted." For some strange reason he was _grinning_ at her - Allison couldn't figure out why, when she was the Most Selfish Moron on Earth. She said as much.  
  
"Yeah, but you're _our_ moron. Now, you gonna let me in? Or do I have to take the next cubicle and do that weird thing you girls do where you chat through the wall?"  
  
"Can't have that, you'd start questioning your sexuality or something, you manly man, you," Allison agreed, and slid over some more. Fish squeezed into the cubicle, and sat opposite her on the floor, knees drawn up uncomfortably in the tiny space. For a long moment they simply looked at each other. At last Allison looked away, partly because she couldn't bear the compassion in his eyes, but mostly because she was seeing double and it was making her ill again.  
  
"Why?" she asked quietly.  
  
He didn't need her to explain what she meant. "It's her mutation. She. well, you know butterflies don't have a very long lifespan?"  
  
Allison nodded, a sudden chill gripping her chest. An image of the butterfly house at the Melbourne Zoo came to her: dying insects, their wings faded and torn, beating out their lives in forgotten corners whilst their offspring fluttered gaily around them. "But Fatimah's a person," she protested weakly.  
  
Fish sighed, wiping his hand across his face. Now Allison could see how drained he was, how utterly weary. And how defeated. "And that's what makes this so _stupid_. She _is_ a person, but her damned mutation has decided that along with the butterfly wings and antennae and hollow bones, she gets the rapid metabolism and the reduced lifespan." He scrubbed his hands through his hair, sending it onto spiky confusion. "All the tests prove it - I'm not sure how long she has, but it's not more than a couple more years. She's literally burning out."  
  
There wasn't anything to say to that. Allison hung her head, the enormity of the situation too much to process, the idiocy of her earlier outburst too shameful. Across from her, Fish was quiet too, but Allison saw, when she lifted her eyes at last, that the muscles along his jaw jumping with the effort of clenching his teeth, and there were tears brimming in his eyes.  
  
She didn't even think - she simply reached out and took his hand and squeezed it.  
  
The tears fell, then. Blindly, he reached for her, and she scooted forward on the cold tiles until she could hug him back. He clung to her as if he was drowning, which was, she thought, what he had been doing. The thought was confirmed by the sob-choked words that forced their way out of him, a story of a losing battle, the struggle to save someone close to him and having to admit there wasn't a solution, of long nights' research, of test after test, of the trust Fatimah had in him that he felt he had betrayed. There wasn't much to be said: she just held him for as long as he needed her to.  
  
***  
  
"Do you think we should check on them?" James asked nervously, glancing towards the bathroom door.  
  
"No," Fatimah said, quietly but firmly. Karen raised an eyebrow at her. "They need time to sort things out," the small girl elaborated. Then she winced ever-so-slightly, touching her forehead with trembling fingers.  
  
"Babe? You okay?" Adrian leaned across in his seat and lay his own hand on her forehead.  
  
"I'm tired, that's all. It's been a long day, and it'll be a longer one tomorrow. Can you take me back to the hostel?" Fatimah barely needed to finish the question; Adrian was already scooping up her jacket from the back of her chair and helping her to her feet.  
  
"We'll come too," Karen added, standing up as well.  
  
"What about Fish and Allison?" James asked.  
  
"They'll make their own way back. Besides, if I know Allie, she'll be horribly embarrassed by the whole scene and things will run a lot more smoothly if she has some time to get it out of her system. Without us hanging around asking if she's all right." Karen smiled and took James' arm. "C'mon, Blue."  
  
"If you say so, I s'pose." James allowed himself to be led out of the restaurant, pausing only to pay and to apologise to the manager for the scene earlier.  
  
"Is fine, is fine. Your friend, she be okay?" he asked, looking genuinely concerned. Adrian nodded.  
  
"She's just not feeling well and had some bad news - our other friend is looking after her."  
  
"Very good then. You have a good night." The little man waved them cheerfully out into the cool autumn evening.  
  
***  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Allie, if you apologise one more time I'm going to flush your head down this toilet, upchuck and all," Fish mock-threatened with a shaky laugh. He accepted the bundle of toilet paper Allison handed him and blew his nose loudly. "You acted like an idiot out there, but you had a reason, us keeping it secret and then springing it on you like that. We should have told you sooner. Karen wanted to, but we didn't know how."  
  
"No, that's not what I'm sorry about. Well, I _am_ sorry about that, but I meant I was sorry for acting like I did after the B&S. After. you know."  
  
"Ah." Fish was quiet for such a long time, looking down at his hands, that Allison squirmed uncomfortably.  
  
"I know I hurt you." she began, thinking he was expecting something more, but he interrupted:  
  
"You were doing what you thought was best. Not very well, I'll admit, but I did put you on the spot. And you were right."  
  
"I was?"  
  
"Sure you were. I just didn't want to see it. Everything you said. I can see it now. It might have been good for a while, but sooner or later one of us would have had to choose between the other person and what they love the most. You with the farm, and me with my medicine. Yeah, I might've been able to take up a practice somewhere there, but you saw how much the heat got to me after a couple of days. I'm not adapted for that kind of climate." Fish shrugged, but there was a note of bitterness in his voice. "Sometimes this mutant thing just sucks."  
  
"It does," she agreed. "But just because I might have been right doesn't give me an excuse to treat you like that. I was scared, and I lashed out." She hung her head again. "Like I did tonight, with Fatimah."  
  
"You always hurt the ones you love," Fish said, with a brief mischievous grin. It looked odd with his reddened eyes and tear-swollen face.  
  
"Still fancying yourself, I see," Allison replied in like spirit. Then she sobered, as much as she was able with a good part of a bottle of wine still in her system. "I do care about you, mate. Just not that way. Sometimes. I wish I did."  
  
"I know you don't." Fish reached over and squeezed her hand, but there was something guarded about his expression, like he was holding something back. Before Allison could probe further, he said: "Now, can we get out of here? My arse has gone to sleep."  
  
"Your arse and my legs both." Best to leave it, she decided. With a grunt, Allison laboriously levered herself to her feet, bracing her shoulder against the cubicle wall. "Ow."  
  
"Ow indeed," Fish agreed, rubbing his bum as he stood up as well. "You gonna be okay?" he asked, noticing the paleness of her face and the slight swaying.  
  
"No, but it's all self-inflicted. Right now I'm just after a big bottle of Gatorade, a couple of aspirins and a place to crash."  
  
"I think we can manage that." Fish held the toilet door open. "After you, mate."  
  
***  
  
"Night, babe." Adrian kissed his fiancee tenderly, then straightened and looked at her mock sternly. "You make sure you get plenty of sleep, all right? No sitting up and gasbagging all night."  
  
"Of course I'll sleep. I have to look my best for tomorrow, and I can't do that if I have big bags under my eyes, can I?" Fatimah replied, laughing a little. "Besides, I am sure Karen would have something to say about it if I didn't."  
  
"Too bloody right I would," Karen growled from where she was pulling the t- shirt she slept in out of her pack. The household had secured a six-person dorm for the weekend, paying for the extra bed rather than having some stranger trapped in their midst. The spare bed was draped in various wedding outfits; the girl's dresses on hangers dangling from the ladder to the top bunk, the boys' pants and shirts spread carefully on the bed itself. Fatimah's dress in its anonymous grey garment bag occupied the safest corner, well away from people traffic and accidental curry stains.  
  
"I'd better go, babe - it's going to take me an hour to get home as it is. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"You'd better," replied Fatimah, stretching up on tip-toe for another kiss. "We've got something organised, remember?"  
  
"You wouldn't forgive me it I forgot, babe." With a final kiss, Adrian disentangled himself from Fatimah and looked over at Karen. "Want to walk me downstairs, Kaz? There's a couple of things we need to go over, make sure there's no stuff-ups tomorrow."  
  
"Sure," Karen said, although the flatness of her voice betrayed her tiredness.  
  
"Tomorrow, babe," Adrian said, blowing Fatimah a kiss. As the pair of them turned to go, James reappeared - he'd realised he hadn't called Cynthia to let her know he'd arrived safely (and hadn't accidentally hijacked the plane with his powers) and had bolted for the phone as soon as they'd returned from the restaurant.  
  
"You're off, then?" he said to Adrian, who nodded.  
  
"Yeah, need my beauty sleep. Have to show you mugs up, don't I?" He extended his hand to James, who shook it with a minimum of interference from his circuitry. The stresses of the day had played merry hell with his control... and by the way the shadows in the hallway were moving of their own accord, Karen's as well. "See you tomorrow, Jim."  
  
"The joke's already been done," warned Karen as James opened his mouth. He caught her slightly sharp tone and decided discretion was better than a bitten-off head and closed it again without any wisecracks.  
  
"Catch you then," was what he settled for, and watched as the pair headed down the dingy corridor.  
  
James opened the door to their room, only to immediately close it, ears and face flushing bright red. "Sorry!" he called through the cheap panelling.  
  
"It's fine," came Fatimah's muffled reply. "Come in - you're safe now."  
  
James opened the door again, a bit more cautiously this time. Fatimah was tying up the laces of her pyjama top: all of her clothes fastened at the back with laces or ribbons or velcro to allow her wings mobility and to prevent damage.  
  
"Can you help me, James? I can't quite reach the middle ones." she asked, apparently unconcerned that James had almost walked in on her topless.  
  
"S-sure," stuttered James, coming forward as she turned around. He fumbled with the ties, accidentally including his thumb in the first bow he tied and uncomfortably aware of the smooth olive skin beneath his fingers. "Um, so, you, ah, nervous?" he asked, desperate for something else to focus on.  
  
"Quite a lot, actually," Fatimah said with a nervous giggle. "All the people, Adrian's family... the ceremony, the weather...there's so much that could go wrong! Do you know, I think I am more scared about this wedding than I am about dying!"  
  
James' fingers froze in the act of tying the last bow.  
  
"James?" Fatimah twisted around, jerking the ribbons out of his hands. "James, are you all right?"  
  
He gave a strangled laugh. "Well, funny that, but _no_, I'm not. I don't really see the humour in the fact that you're... that you'll..." Unable to say the words, he spread his hands helplessly, the circuitry covering them writhing in his distress. Fatimah waited for him to finish, face filled with compassion.  
  
"The word you're looking for is 'die', James. Perhaps if you make yourself say it you will begin to accept it," she said at last. Her voice was gentle, but held the note of determination that had been more and more evident in the time since her diagnosis.  
  
"'Accept it'? How can I? And how can you say that?! You're barely twenty and you're standing there talking about dying like it's no big deal! Aren't you angry? Or scared? Or don't you care?" James tried to pull away, but Fatimah caught his hands in her own, ignoring the tendrils of circuitry that wrapped around her fingers.  
  
"James, listen to me," she said earnestly. "You don't understand what it's like, and I need you to." Unable to withstand that tone, combined with those large dark eyes looking into to his, James nodded reluctantly. "You asked me if I am angry or scared, and I am, both of those things. But not for myself. I am angry that Adrian will have so little time with me, that my friends will have to suffer. I am sad to leave the people I love, and I am scared about what will happen to them when I am gone. But I can't feel those things for myself."  
  
"Why not?" James asked, voice thick with conflicting emotions. "You're not the bloody Dalai Lama, Fatimah, so why the sudden saintliness?"  
  
"When my mutation came, I went into a cocoon, yes? And when I came out, I was like this, changed. But the wings, the antennae, they weren't the only things that were different. _I_ changed, in myself, my personality, my attitudes, my outlook. I'm not sure how to explain it, but I came out of that cocoon knowing things would be different, that there wouldn't be as much time for me. The same thing that makes a butterfly aware it only lives so long and drives it to live as much as it can during that time. And that was what gave me the courage to leave my father, to make my own life, to marry Adrian. Knowing that I had to put as much life as I could into the time I had left." Fatimah paused to let her words sink in, and then went on: "Yes, my mutation will kill me, but it also gave me a whole new life, one much more fulfilling than the one I would have had otherwise. If not for being a mutant, I would have obeyed my father, married the man he had chosen for me, been the dutiful Turkish wife and mother and raised my children to be the same. But instead I've had freedom, and love, and met the best friends anyone could ever have." At this point, Fatimah's composure slipped, and her voice trembled. "You asked me if I care that I am leaving you, and I _do_ care, more than anything. I don't want to go. But I must, and I would much rather my remaining time be spent _living_, instead of dying. Do you understand, now?" He grip tightened on his hands, and James could feel their slight shaking. He bit his lip and nodded, not trusting his own voice.  
  
"Good." Fatimah smiled, a watery kind of smile, but underneath James could see the serenity she had been developing for the past few months now, and that, more than anything else she said, convinced him that whilst it would be hard for him to accept it, her death was inevitable, and she knew that. With some difficulty she let his hands go - his circuitry had gotten quite entangled - and hugged him. He returned the embrace awkwardly, not wanting to hurt her; she felt as fragile as fine bone china in his arms.  
  
"I'm, uh, I'm going to go brush my teeth and get changed for bed," he mumbled when the moment had ended. "And you should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow, you know."  
  
"The biggest," she agreed solemnly, before breaking into another of those eerily beautiful smiles. "Goodnight, James," she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek and then turning away from him to clamber into her bed.  
  
"'Night," he replied, and went to grab his bedclothes and toothbrush out of his bag.  
  
***  
  
James was returning from brushing his teeth in the communal bathroom when he met Karen at the door of the dorm room.  
  
"You look beat," he commented. Karen gave him a tired grin.  
  
"Me and the rest of us. I swear, this wedding party is going to resemble 'Night of the Living Dead', what with Fatimah pushing herself too hard to get there, Fish with his chronic sleep deprivation, and Allison with what will be a truly spectacular hangover if there's any justice left in the world."  
  
"Ouch, remind me not to piss you off," James winced. "You have a really nasty, catty streak."  
  
Karen grunted. "Yeah, well, I'm not feeling particularly charitable right now. No doubt 'Saint Karen' will be back in force tomorrow, but at this moment you're dealing with Karen the Human Being. And after the past few weeks, I'm too damn tired to give a fuck." At James' worried frown, she managed a smile. "It's okay, I'm not really that mad at her. Just. you know."  
  
"Definitely." James shoved his toothbrush and toothpaste into the pocket of the shirt he was wearing over his boxers and grabbed her arm. "C'mon."  
  
"C'mon where? It's almost midnight, Blue." Despite her confusion, Karen allowed herself to be led down the hallway to the lifts.  
  
"Family tradition, the night before a wedding. The maid of honour and the bride's housemate have a drink in the hostel bar."  
  
"Are you kidding? It's late, there's the wedding tomorrow, and I really don't think."  
  
"See, that's the problem." James punched the button for the lift and was rewarded by the noisy rattle of the brushed metal door. "You've been thinking way too much for the past few months, and you need a break, before the insanity tomorrow. More than that, you need to give Karen the Human Being an airing, before she suffocates." As he spoke, James hustled Karen into the lift and hit the ground floor button. "And since Fish has got enough on his plate, and Allison is in no fit state, and Fatimah's asleep, well, that leaves me. You don't have to unburden yourself or tell me any deep dark secrets, but you _are_ going to relax, whether you want to or not."  
  
"We have ways of making you not stress?" Karen joked in a truly bad fake German accent.  
  
"We do. Don't make me get out the comfy chair and the nice hot cup of tea." The lift stopped and the ageing door groaned its way open again.  
  
"Blue, you _are_ aware you're wearing your Marvin the Martian boxers, aren't you?" Karen asked, trying one last ditch effort to bring the determined technopath to something resembling sense.  
  
"Yes. And what a fashion statement they are. Besides, we're in a backpackers' hostel. Clothing is preferred, but not required, if the guy I saw wandering down the hallway with nothing but a towel slung over his shoulder is anything to go by." James led the way into the small bar, furnished in what could only be described as 'student sharehouse chic', with battered couches, a threadbare pool table, and a bar that looked suspiciously like their kitchen table back in Hope Street. "Right, sit there, don't move, and I'll be back in a sec," James ordered, reaching into a back pocket that didn't exist for his wallet. His expression turned sheepish. "Um, you don't happen to have any money, do you? I'll pay you back when we get back to the room."  
  
Giggling, Karen handed over a twenty. "Great way to sweep a girl off her feet, Blue," she teased. "Make mine a Cock Sucking Cowboy."  
  
James looked slightly pained. "You're not going to make me ask for that, are you?"  
  
"Damn straight I am. It's too late for beer. Just be grateful I didn't ask for a Screaming Orgasm." Karen's expression turned impish. "You _did_ say I was supposed to relax."  
  
James sighed. "That I did. One drink with a stupidly suggestive name coming up."  
  
***  
  
And that was how, upon their extremely slow return to the hostel (walking, the first taxi they flagged down having refused to let Allison remain on board after she hadn't been able to go five hundred metres down the road without asking for it to stop so she could be sick), Allison and Fish found a boxer-clad James and a giggling Karen staggering back down the hallway to their dorm. The two girls engaged in drunken hugging and elaborate, slurred apologies, whilst the two boys - rather unceremoniously, since their respective journeys to the hallway had been. interesting, to say the least - lugged them into the room and deposited them onto the floor where they promptly passed out. Out of consideration, James spread a doona over their slumbering forms.  
  
"Pub?" suggested Fish, straightening his back with a small wince.  
  
"Pub," James agreed emphatically, remembering to grab his wallet this time.  
  
As they descended in the ancient, grumbling lift, James gave Fish a lop- sided grin. "Looks like you had fun getting Allie back."  
  
"Tell me about it. I think she's chucked up meals she hasn't even had yet." The medical student shook his head with a small laugh. "What the hell did you do to Karen?"  
  
"I decided she needed some time off, and she punished me by making me buy her every cocktail with an obscene name she could think of." James winced at the memory. "Tell me again why we put up with them? It's not even like we're getting any sex out of it, are we?" Fish remained silent, but turned very red around the ears. "Are we?" James repeated.  
  
The door rattled open. Fish coughed.  
  
"We _are_?"  
  
"Well, I dunno about _you_, mate." Fish couldn't help a small smirk as he stepped past the stunned James into the lobby again. The shorter boy came to his senses barely in time to get out of the lift before the door closed - it beeped rudely at him as he squirmed out. He caught up with Fish at the front door.  
  
"Seriously? You and Allie?"  
  
"Of course me and Allie. Kaz'd have me for breakfast." Fish picked a direction and headed down it, sure there would be a pub somewhere; Karen claimed his ability to sniff out pubs was a secondary mutation.  
  
"You and Allie had sex." James seemed to be having problems with this concept. "How did this happen?"  
  
"The usual way. Didn't you do sex ed in school?" James realised what he'd said and punched Fish on the arm as they walked down the windswept Sydney streets.  
  
"That's not what I meant. When was this?"  
  
"At her parents place last February."  
  
"You had sex in her parents' house? With them there? And Mr Ferguson didn't set the dogs on you?"  
  
"It's not like we did it on the kitchen table, Blue." Fish chuckled at the image. "It was in the back of her brother's ute, if you must know."  
  
"You and Allie had sex in her brother's ute? The last of the great romantics, aren't you?"  
  
"When in Rome, mate. It was during that B&S Ball she asked me up for - I'll have you know utes are considered posh at those things."  
  
"Sure." James was about to say more, but at that point the "Tooheys" illuminated sign signalled they had indeed found a pub.  
  
"Evenin'," Fish said to the large Samoan man in the universal uniform of the bouncer - black t-shirt and jeans - who was standing at the door. He made as if to grab the door handle when the bouncer's snort stopped him.  
  
"Nice try, boys. Like I'm going to let your friend in dressed like that. Or should I say 'undressed'?"  
  
"Huh?" James looked down at his boxers and shirt - his toothbrush was still in the front pocket of the shirt but the toothpaste must have fallen out when carrying Karen back to the dorm - and his be-thonged feet. "Damn, knew I should have put some sneakers on."  
  
"And the rest," the bouncer said, indicating James' boxers.  
  
"These? Oh, this is the new style, didn't you know? Cartoon-character shorts, everyone's wearing them down in Melbourne. Guess you Sydneysiders are a bit slow." The bouncer's face hardened at that, causing Fish to grab James' arm and tug him back along the street.  
  
"Just joking," he told the bouncer over his shoulder as he hustled James away. "Have a good one."  
  
The bouncer merely grunted, arms folded across his massive chest.  
  
"Jeez, Jim, you trying to get us beaten up by Sydney's not-so-finest? If it was contusions you were after, I'd be more than happy to help you out with that, mate."  
  
"Is it my fault he didn't have a sense of humour?" James looked down at his clothing. "I think this might cause a problem."  
  
"Nah, there has to be somewhere that'll accept your version of haute couture," Fish said optimistically.  
  
"I guess if we don't we could always find a coffee shop or something."  
  
"And then we could talk about our feelings and have some kind of epiphany, hey?"  
  
James gave Fish a long look. "Sometimes I worry about you, mate."  
  
***  
  
"Damn," Fatimah muttered between teeth clenched around a couple of bobby pins. Arms trembling slightly from being raised above her head too long, she made another attempt to plait her mass of black hair and then gave up. "At this rate, Adrian will be marrying a total mess," she told her reflection sourly.  
  
The communal bathroom door banged open, revealing Allison, still in the dress she'd been wearing the night before, although considerably more wrinkled now, her hair like a haystack and eyes barely open. She had a towel slung over her shoulder and her toiletry bag dangling from one hand.  
  
"You look terrible," Fatimah observed, looking at Allison critically as the taller girl ran the tap in the next sink and splashed double handfuls of cold water on her face.  
  
"I feel worse," Allison groaned, drying her face. "But it's nothing a couple of Nurofen and a hell of a lot of caffeine won't cure." She watched Fatimah struggling with her hair and reached for the brush. "Here, let me."  
  
"Would you? I can't keep my arms up for long before they get tired, and I've still got to put my dress on," Fatimah said gratefully, half-turning so Allison had access to the back of her head. "You always did do a good job with it. I've missed that."  
  
"I miss doing it," Allison said, running the brush carefully through the long black mass of hair, deftly avoiding both antennae and wings. "So, how are you pulling up this morning? Nervous?"  
  
"A little." The last word cracked, and Fatimah shrugged. "Very well, a lot. I wish my mother was here."  
  
"She's not coming?" Allison raised her eyebrows. Fatimah, watching Allison's face in the mirror, nodded.  
  
"No. Adrian isn't Muslim, and it is forbidden for me to marry him. Or for my family to attend." Fatimah sighed. "Adrian offered to convert so that my mother at least could be here, but I wouldn't let him. If my family cannot accept my husband as he is, as I love him, then I don't want them to."  
  
"Do they know? About." Allison hesitated, unsure of how to put it. Fatimah's brown eyes, reflected in the mirror, held hers steadily.  
  
"About my condition? No, they don't. I do not see why the fact I am dying should change anything - my father effectively rejected my whole existence when he cast me away, and I want my death to be my own." The words were determined, but Allison could see the trembling of the small girl's lips. She continued brushing, letting the motion soothe both of them. Fatimah breathed deeply, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears that had threatened to rise. When she met Allison's gaze again in the mirror, those tears still lingered, but didn't fall. "But I am afraid. I _do_ wish my mother was here." Before Allison could think of anything to say - what could she say that wouldn't sound trite? - Fatimah changed the subject: "Could you French braid it? You do it so well, and I want to look nice for Adrian."  
  
"It's your day, mate - whatever you want. It's the least I can do," was all Allison said with a small smile. Once more their eyes met in the mirror, an agreement of sorts passing between them. Nothing else needed to be said, at least then.  
  
*BANG!*  
  
The bathroom door burst open, and Karen staggered in, bolting immediately for a toilet cubicle. Without bothering to close the door behind her, she half-fell onto the floor in front of the toilet and proceeded to be noisily sick.  
  
"Morning," Allison said, once the storm had abated enough for Karen to slump back and wipe off her face with a wad of toilet paper.  
  
"Kill me," was the reply. Then Karen opened her eyes and got a good look at Allison, who was looking far healthier than she was supposed to. "No, scratch that. Someone kill _you_ first, so I can watch, and then put me out of my misery."  
  
Allison continued to braid Fatimah's hair, but raised a quizzical eyebrow at her former room-mate. "Someone got out of the bed on the cranky side this morning."  
  
"Considering we spent last night on the floor, I'm not surprised. Why are you standing up?" Karen managed to climb to her feet and stumbled to the sink, alternatively drinking handfuls of water from the tap and splashing her face.  
  
"I guess I off-loaded most of it last night. Fair's fair - you saw the state of me in the lift."  
  
"I did, sort of. My memory got kind of hazy somewhere between the Sex On The Beach and the Great Screaming Orgasm." Karen spat a mouthful of water into the sink and leaned heavily against it, peering at herself in the mirror. "Oh dear God, I look disgusting."  
  
"You do. You both do, in fact," Fatimah observed, looking from one of them to the other. "It is lucky for you two that this isn't a religious wedding. What would you have done at a formal ceremony, reeking of alcohol and looking like death warmed over?" Allison finished her task, and Fatimah accepted her hairbrush back with no small amount of insulted dignity. There was, however, a small twitching around her mouth that suggested she was in fact trying not to laugh, not noticed by her two housemates in their hungover states. "I suggest you both shower, and see what can be done to make yourselves acceptable. Honestly, I would have expected this from the boys." And with that, the Fairy made her exit, braid swinging behind her. The effect would have been more intimidating if she hadn't been wearing pastel pink PJs with kittens on them.  
  
Karen looked at Allison. Allison looked at Karen. Waiting until they judged Fatimah out of earshot, they burst into uncontrollable giggling.  
  
"Better watch it, mate, Fatimah's gunning for your position as BitchQueen," Karen snorted. Allison's giggles, which had been easing, redoubled, so all she could do was wave her hand at Karen in a gesture that possibly meant something, or perhaps nothing at all.  
  
"She has a point, tho'," she managed to squeak out at last. "We do look fucking awful."  
  
"We could always say it's a new look. Y'know, like heroin chic," replied Karen, barely managing to gasp out the words between laughter.  
  
"I can just see Naomi Campbell with the mascara panda eyes, wearing a traffic cone on her head and covered in love bites."  
  
"Dereliction, a new line in fragrances from Calvin Kline. Smell like you've been on a bender for three weeks and woke up in a rubbish skip, just like our models."  
  
"Ow, stop it, my head's pounding again." Allison winced and rubbed her forehead. Karen looked satisfied.  
  
"Good, you _are_ in pain. Now I feel much better." Allison poked her tongue out at her best friend, and the giggles burst out afresh.  
  
"So," Allison said eventually, when they had sobered enough for coherent speech.  
  
"So," replied Karen. They were both sprawled on the tiled floor by now, Karen with her back against the toilet cubicle, Allison propped against the wall in between the two sinks. A long pause followed Karen's response, broken finally by Allison:  
  
"Did Fish tell you? What happened at my place in February?"  
  
Karen's face was impassive, her tone neutral. "Yep, he did."  
  
"Are you." Allison faltered, then regrouped. "Are you angry at me for what I did?"  
  
"That's not for me to say. If anyone should be angry, it's Fish. What happened between you two is for you two to sort out." Karen shrugged, just a little. "But if you want me to be honest here, yeah, I was kind of pissed off at you. You did a half-arsed job of telling him what was going on with you, and left me and James to pick up the pieces. And you know Fish - he _sulks_. You have no idea of the number of times I had to prise him out of that damn room of his. Not to mention the money I spent helping him drown his sorrows. Fish is a typical bloke - you've got to get him pretty well tanked before he actually admits to even having feelings."  
  
Allison squirmed, but couldn't think of anything to say to that, beyond yet another apology. And 'sorry' was rapidly becoming the most heavily used word in her vocabulary.  
  
"I got through to him eventually, though. Made him realise how futile the whole thing was, that there was no way you'd live anywhere else, and there was no way he'd survive the first full summer there," Karen continued. "He's still dealing with it, mind. But he knows it'll never happen."  
  
Which explained his strangely reasonable behaviour in the toilet the night before, Allison realised. The way he'd seemed to accept it when she'd said that she didn't love him in a romantic sense. She looked up to meet Karen's gaze.  
  
"I owe you one," she said.  
  
Karen nodded. "You owe me more than one, roomie." She clambered to her feet, grabbing the frame of the cubicle door to support herself.  
  
Allison grinned, in spite of herself. "And I'm sure you'll think of something appropriate. Now, go get your shower stuff before Fatimah remembers us again. You know how shrill she can get."  
  
With a wince, Karen nodded. "Besides, we reek."  
  
"That we do," Allison agreed.  
  
***  
  
"We are gathered here to celebrate the marriage of Adrian and Fatimah."  
  
Sydney Botanical Gardens under a cloud-chequered April sky. April is not exactly the best time for an outdoor wedding in Australia's largest city, but Fatimah had been insistent to the point of irrationally attached to the idea, and the Fairy could be remarkably stubborn when she wanted something badly enough. Fortunately the temperature had been kind, the wind not much more than a slight breeze, and the sun, whilst intermittent, was mercifully warm on the bride who was wearing a plain white dress with a halter neck that left her shoulders bare and her wings unencumbered. The tiredness was gone from Fatimah's face, and she practically glowed as she looked up at her imminent husband.  
  
"Two young people who have made a commitment to each other, a commitment they wish to formalise before their friends and family."  
  
The couple turned from their rapt gazing at each other to briefly acknowledge the small assemblage. Most of the people were Adrian's friends and closer work colleagues, but both his parents (and their new partners) had made it, as well as a few other relatives. Amused grins appeared as various individuals glanced at the four housemates - Fatimah just gave them a rueful shake of her head. Which was unfair, as James would say later, since they'd all made what had felt like a superhuman effort in the area of making themselves presentable. The two boys were in nice shirts and slacks, the girls in dresses. If it wasn't for the dark sunglasses each was wearing despite the cloudy day, they'd have blended in nicely.  
  
"Big night?" whispered Adrian's cousin Ben to Karen. She smiled wanly at him.  
  
"How'd you guess?"  
  
"Dunno." He winked at her and turned his attention back to the ceremony.  
  
"Should any one know of any reason why these two should not be married."  
  
Fish nudged Allison. "Your cue," he murmured, barely audible. She elbowed him, and the movement caught the celebrant's attention - she looked quizzically at the assembled housemates, smiling slightly at the Blues Brothers-esque effect of the sunglasses before returning to her scripted words.  
  
"Adrian, do you take Fatimah to be your wife? To love her and live with her, to share everything with her, for as long as you both live?"  
  
"I do." Adrian's answer was steady, and his smile was almost goofy in its affection as he looked down at Fatimah.  
  
"Fatimah, do you take Adrian to be your husband? To love him and live with him, to share everything with him, for as long as you both live?"  
  
Silence hung heavy in the air, and Fish almost perceptibly winced. But when she replied, Fatimah's voice held no bitterness, no sorrow.  
  
"I do."  
  
"The rings?" the celebrant prompted, and Karen stepped forward, fumbling in the pockets of her jacket. After a suitably dramatic moment, she handed the two plain silver rings to Adrian with a grin. He, in turn, gave the larger of the two rings to Fatimah. Watching for the celebrant's nod, she took his hand and slid the ring onto his left ring finger as the words continued:  
  
"These rings symbolise the promises you have made to each other in front of these witnesses, and the love you feel for each other."  
  
So gently he looked like he was afraid she would break, Adrian slid the much smaller ring onto Fatimah's finger.  
  
"With the making of vows before your friends and family, and with the exchange of rings, I now declare you husband and wife," declared the celebrant. She had no time for the next line, as Adrian caught Fatimah around the waist and lifted her up for a long kiss amongst the applause and cheers of those there. To her surprise, Allison was clapping as loud as any of them, whilst tears ran down her face.  
  
***  
  
"So the deed is done," said James as he poured another beer for Adrian and then Karen from the jug he'd brought over from the bar. The certificate had been signed, the photos taken, the bubbles (in lieu of confetti, which wasn't allowed in the Gardens) blown, the congratulations made. the deed had indeed been done, and now the wedding party had adjourned to the reception, which was taking place in the second-floor function room of a pub not too far from the hostel. The same pub, in fact, that had turned James and Fish away the night before. James had caught the eye of the bouncer as they'd gone in and made a point of doing a model-like turn for him to show him that there would be no breaching of a dress code this time. The bouncer had merely grunted and waved him inside, but James had caught the grin as he went past.  
  
"Thank goodness for that," Karen said, reaching for her glass. "No offence, Fatimah, but next time you get married, how about not coming down with a fatal condition beforehand? I'm stuffed, to put it frankly."  
  
"Next time?" Adrian protested. Fatimah giggled and hugged his arm - she'd barely let go of her new husband since they'd arrived at the Gardens that afternoon.  
  
"Hey, where's Allie and Fish?" asked James, looking around the semi-crowded room.  
  
"If they're bonking again, they can sort it out themselves this time," mock- growled Karen. She was interrupted by Adrian spraying a mouthful of beer across the table in a most uncultured way.  
  
"They're doing what?" he choked. Fatimah handed him a napkin.  
  
"Bonking," she said brightly. "You know, having sex?"  
  
"I know what bonking is, babe," he said, wiping beer off his face. "But those two?"  
  
"Which two? And who's bonking" asked Allison, unexpectedly appearing from behind them. "Don't tell me you newlyweds are already getting frisky on us. You've only been married for a few hours."  
  
"Um, no-one. No-one's bonking," James said quickly. "You seen Fish around?"  
  
"He's over by the bar, putting the hard word on one of Adrian's cousins," Allison replied, waving her hand towards the sandy head bent slightly over that of a rather attractive girl in a red dress, to hear what she was saying over the buzz of conversation and the background music. Adrian followed the gesture and chuckled.  
  
"Sarah? Well, I've got to say, the man has taste," said Adrian approvingly. "She does some modelling part-time to help pay for uni."  
  
"I think it was more she was closest to the bar," Allison chuckled.  
  
"Adrian! You and your lovely bride must give us a waltz!" called Adrian's mother, bustling over. She was a small blonde woman with a penchant for pink - she and Fatimah had bonded over that point - and the dress she was wearing was so pink and frilly she reminded Allison of those dolls on a stick her father used to win for her at the local show. The music had changed to something suitably slow, and Adrian, rolling his eyes at his mother, led Fatimah onto the floor. Their disparate heights made for a comical sight, at least until Fatimah beat her wings enough to lift herself to his eyelevel. An almost collective sigh arose from the female half of the party at the sight - it was almost like a scene from a storybook, the handsome prince and his fairy bride.  
  
"Hope she doesn't tire herself out," Karen murmured.  
  
"If she does, she's got Adrian to look after her," pointed out Allison. Karen sighed, just a little, and then nodded.  
  
"She does, doesn't she?"  
  
Out on the dance floor, more couples were joining the newlyweds. Fish had managed to convince Sarah to dance with him, and he was desperately trying not to step on her feet. Allison felt a small pang at the sight, but had to smile. Karen nudged her.  
  
"Looks like I'm not the only one feeling abandoned, hey?" Karen said. "So much for undying devotion."  
  
Allison nodded. "Yeah, guess I'm not as unforgettable as I would have liked to have been." She glanced over at James. "Want to dance, Blue?"  
  
"Me? Oh, I don't." Karen employed her elbow again, catching him in the ribs and giving him a meaningful look. "But then again, there's a first time for everything." He followed her out onto the floor, awkwardly putting his hands around her waist as she put hers around his neck. Karen laughed at the sight.  
  
"I can't believe they left a gorgeous girl like you sitting in the corner," said a new voice at her shoulder. She jumped a little, and turned to see Ben, the cousin who had spoken to her at the ceremony. "Would you like to?" he continued, inclining his head towards the dance floor.  
  
"Why not?" she replied, and took the offered hand.  
  
***  
  
This is how it ends.  
  
Not with a bang or a whimper, but with an airport, which could be considered a bit of both. Five friends - and one new spouse - gathered awkwardly in the domestic terminal of Sydney Airport. Awkward because they all sensed that, in one way or another, this was an ending. From here on, things would be altogether changed.  
  
In the end, it was something of an anticlimax.  
  
"That's our flight being called, babe. We'd better go."  
  
Fatimah nodded at her husband's prompting. "We should." She smiled at her friends. "Thank you, all of you, for everything you've done."  
  
"No worries," Fish said. "Send us a postcard from up north, eh?"  
  
"I will." There was a round of hugs and kisses, murmurs of "take care" and "be happy", and then the happy couple were on their way through the gate. Fatimah paused briefly to turn and wave, and then, just as briefly, they were gone.  
  
"So." Karen said.  
  
"That's my line, isn't it?" Allison joked, blinking hard, her nose and eyes just a little pinker than usual.  
  
"If you say so." Karen looked at her watch. "We've got a few hours before the Melbourne flight, bags are checked in. What do you think we should do now?"  
  
"You have to ask?" Fish said, grinning. Beside him, James rolled his eyes. Karen bowed to the weight of inevitability  
  
"All right then," she said. "Let's go find a bar, shall we?"  
  
***  
  
The End. 


End file.
